Chapter 7: Campus Danger

The weekend at her house still burned in my veins Monday morning. I could taste her on my tongue every time I swallowed, feel the way her soft belly had pressed against me while she rode me slow in that marital bed, the squeak of the frame her husband slept in echoing in my skull. She’d whispered “I’m falling for you, Alex” between kisses, wedding ring cool on my chest, and I’d believed her. The first creampie on her kitchen counter, the spanking she’d begged for on all fours, the lazy morning blowjob that ended with me filling her again—every second replayed while I sat through my morning classes, cock half-hard under the desk.

By Wednesday the texts had turned filthy again. During her 10 a.m. lecture she sent one under the podium: No panties today. Short dress. Thinking about your cock while I lecture. Meet me in the 4th-floor stacks after class. Dark aisle, far left. My pulse slammed. I stared at her from the back row—short wrap dress the color of deep burgundy hugging every curve, hem flirting with mid-thigh, no bra because her nipples pressed faint outlines against the fabric when she turned to the board. The wedding ring flashed on her left hand every time she gestured, reminder and fuel at the same time.

I slipped into the humanities library right after her class let out, backpack slung low to hide the bulge. The fourth floor was quiet, that hush of old paper and dust that always smelled like secrets. Footsteps echoed far away, students murmuring two aisles over. I found the dark corner she’d described—shelves towering to the ceiling, a narrow gap barely wide enough for two bodies.